Brooke Forbes

There’s something about the Rainbow Bee-Eater

in full flight,

that makes me think of magic.

She moves like half butterfly, half bird –

 colours across the full desert spectrum.

The wings take shape in crisp air and fly,

spread across a newly rain-drenched landscape.

I’m watching from a porch seat –

observing the flicks and flutters,

the sudden drops into pools of rain water

to pick up an unsuspecting insect or two.

And I’m thinking,

where else can magic take form today?

Will it be in the big –

like the never-ending blue blue sky,

fresh with colour after a week of grey,

or like the green and orange ranges,

stretching out against the blue-lit skyscape?

Or will it be in the small –

like a tiny purple wildflower

creeping through a crack in a winding pavement,

or a baby wallaby

taking its first sips of a winding creek.

I can sit and ponder for hours,

how the different shapes and sounds

take form and make a desert wonderland.

But for now,

the Rainbow Bee-Eater is taking

another plunge into the watery depths;

 and a my mind is satisfied

by the instant spray

of blue, green, orange and yellow.